


Until There's Nothing Left

by angellwings



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Action, Confessions, Consider this my own personal season nine premiere, Danger, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Long Shot, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Team as Family, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25297840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellwings/pseuds/angellwings
Summary: CHICAGO PD SEARCHING FOR SUSPECT WHO STOLE AMBULANCEThe headline alert pops up on Matt’s phone as he’s getting ready for work. Apple regularly alerts him to news they think he’ll be interested in and the accuracy of their insight never ceases to worry and amaze him. Smart phones and the internet are useful but creep him the hell out sometimes.Whatever they used to seek out and present this headline to him is right on because this is exactly the kind of news heneedsto see. Does hewantto see it? No, but he needs to know what’s happening in his city, especially to his colleagues.“Did you see this?” He asks Kelly as he passes him for the coffeemaker.“Seriously?” Severide asks as he glances over the headline on Matt’s phone. “A city ambo or a private one?”“Private,” Matt answers as he skims the article. “But the guy was dressed in turn outs apparently. After he stole the ambo he stole an old man’s car, saying he needed it for an emergency.”Severide rolls his eyes. “They better find this idiot. The last thing we need is some guy out there giving us a bad name.”
Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 114
Kudos: 293





	1. Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** So, this fic is MONSTER. Basically, I saw a recent REAL LIFE headline and immediately thought, “Omg Fire is totally gonna use that headline in season 9.” And then I thought HOW would they use that headline and before you know it I’m writing a fic I wish I could READ or even better SEE on my television. All that to say, I wrote a fic that felt organic to me FOR me. I hope you guys like it too because it touches on all my favorite things about Brett and Casey, individually and as a pair.
> 
> I apologize for the length unless, like me, long one shots are your HEAVEN and then in that case...you’re welcome. ;) 
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> xoxo
> 
> PS - I did not proof read this monster so if you’re reading it immediately after I posted it then I’m sorry. You may see some unfortunate typos, lol.

******

_“I wanna hide with you in the rain,_

_In the eye of a hurricane._

_I wanna call it for what it is,_

_Give you everything I've got to give,_

_Till there's nothing left.”_

_-“Till There’s Nothing Left” by Cam_

_******_

_CHICAGO PD SEARCHING FOR SUSPECT WHO STOLE AMBULANCE_

The headline alert pops up on Matt’s phone as he’s getting ready for work. Apple regularly alerts him to news they think he’ll be interested in and the accuracy of their insight never ceases to worry and amaze him. Smart phones and the internet are useful but creep him the hell out sometimes.

Whatever they used to seek out and present this headline to him is right on because this is exactly the kind of news he _needs_ to see. Does he _want_ to see it? No, but he needs to know what’s happening in his city, especially to his colleagues.

“Did you see this?” He asks Kelly as he passes him for the coffeemaker.

“Oh shit, seriously?” Severide asks as he glances over the headline on Matt’s phone. “A city ambo or a private one?”

“Private,” Matt answers as he skims the article. “But the asshole was dressed in turn outs apparently. After he stole the ambo he stole an old man’s car, saying he needed it for an emergency.”

Severide rolls his eyes. “They better find this jagoff. The last thing we need is some guy out there giving us a bad name. He take anything from the ambulance?”

“Yeah, but the article doesn’t say what.” His thoughts stray to Sylvie and worry settles over him. 

The fact this guy hasn’t been found and stole from the ambulance seeps into his subconscious. He targeted a private rig this time but what’s to stop him from going after city property next? If it’s drugs that he’s after, there’s no telling what he might do next.

“You think headquarters filled Chief in on this?” Kelly asks. He must be thinking along the same lines as Matt.

“I don’t know,” Matt replies as he watches Severide fill his travel mug. “But I’m sure as hell gonna make sure he knows.”

“Where did this happen?” 

“Where did what happen?” Stella asks as she joins them, dressed and ready for shift. 

“Some idiot pretending to be a firefighter stole a private ambulance,” Kelly tells her before kissing her quickly. “The cops are still searching for him.”

“Holy shit, seriously?” She asks, taking the coffee pot from Severide.

“And it’s Brett’s first day with her new partner,” Matt mutters with a shake of his head. “At least if she was still riding with Foster I’d know someone would have her back.”

“And Sylvie wouldn’t be avoiding all of us,” Stella adds sadly. The sadness fades slightly as she offers him a weak smile. “That Lin girl Gallo was dating is her new partner. She seems pretty tough.”

Severide snorts. “She seems pretty... _something_ , alright. I don’t know about tough. Obnoxious, sure, but--”

Stella grins but smacks his arm, hard. “Be nice.”

“I think I’m gonna head out early,” Matt says thoughtfully. “Try and get a hold of Boden before the Briefing.”

“You don’t really think this dumbass would try that same thing again, do you?” Severide asks. “Seems pretty risky to do it two days in a row, especially now that people are on the look out for it.”

“Better to be prepared,” Matt advises him. 

“Mhm.” Stella smirks at him pointedly. “Especially when it comes to a certain PIC we all know and love, right?”

“Ah,” Severide says with a grin and a nod. Understanding dawns over his face. “This is about Brett. Got it. Hey, maybe this’ll get her to stop avoiding meal times at the house. I haven’t seen her in the common room since Foster went to Northwestern. And once she’s back, Matt can stop watching for her like a little lost puppy.”

Matt glares at them both and rolls his eyes. They’re right but he’s not gonna let _them_ know that. He’s been worried about Sylvie for a while now and _maybe_ that’s led to him obsessively being on the lookout for her around the house. She’s pulling away from all of them. It’s unlike her. He has good reason to be concerned.

“This is about Brett _and_ Lin. This was a parked private ambulance but a guy like this could easily escalate. I’m not taking any chances. See you at the house.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, man,” Severide calls to his retreating back with a chuckle.

******

Boden seeks Sylvie out as soon as she steps foot on the app floor. She hasn’t even had time to greet her new partner yet. She has a brief worry that he intends to talk to her about how distant she’s been with the house lately, but then he grabs Violet too as they pass the common room. He leads them both to his office. 

Now, she assumes he plans to formally introduce them to each other before the morning briefing. Maybe he’s checking to make sure it’s a good fit. Her assumption is immediately dashed by the sight of 51’s three officers waiting for them in Boden’s office. 

They’d been in an officer’s meeting and Boden stepped out to find them. 

Something’s up.

“Morning, everyone,” Brett says slowly as she glances around the room in concern. She waves at Casey, Herrmann, and Severide -- trying not to let her eyes linger too long on Matt. “What’s going on?”

“If this is about what I think it is, Gallo started it,” Violet says, resting her hands on her hips.

Boden’s eyes narrow on Lin suspiciously. “Started _what_?”

Her eyes widen in a brief flash of panic. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Brett had been a little concerned about Violet getting along with Gallo when Boden first told her who he was bringing in, but she’d kept her concerns to herself. She hopes that was the right call. She was willing to give Violet a chance, but 51 doesn’t need in-house squabbles getting in the way of their jobs. 

She gives Violet a bemused glance and decides to cut her a break. “You needed to see us, Chief?”

“Yes,” he says as he motions toward the two chairs across from his desk. “Have a seat.”

They sit and Herrmann, Severide, and Casey do the same, filling in the couch tucked in the corner of Boden’s office.

“This morning,” he begins. “Headquarters and Captain Casey brought a headline to my attention. CPD is searching for a man posing as a firefighter who stole a private ambulance yesterday.”

Sylvie nods slowly. “I read about that. In River North, right? It was parked and no one was inside.”

“The guy stole supplies too,” Violet quips, looking smug about her awareness of the story. “No one knew what supplies, but I’m assuming drugs. I mean why else bother with an ambulance? For the _towels_?”

Sylvie grins and chuckles quietly. “Or the gauze?”

“The cardboard splints,” Violet suggests, smirking at Sylvie.

“Regardless of what was stolen or the fact that no one was hurt,” Bodens says, interrupting their playful bit. “Chief Hatcher wants all ambos to avoid nonessential stops.” The corners of his mouth turn up very slightly as he gives Sylvie a knowing, almost parental glance. “That means no smoothie runs or coffee trips.” His expression turns solemn and his eyes focus on hers. Whatever he says next is going to be indicative of his concern for her. Normally, that look precedes a lecture. “And you eat all meals at the house.” Something she hasn’t done in weeks. That explains the unspoken lecture. She’s been avoiding 51 and Boden’s noticed. “He targeted a parked rig so the goal is to avoid parked and unoccupied ambulances unless it’s necessary to a call. Copy?”

“Does that mean no Doughnut Vault?” Violet asks, looking appalled. All heads turn to her with dry expressions. “What? I was told it was a right of passage for the first day on 61.”

Sylvie gives her new partner a soft but silencing glance before turning to look Boden in the eyes. “Copy, Chief.”

“Stay safe and be vigilant,” Boden warns them. “There’s no telling what a criminal might try next in these situations.” He stands which means they can follow his lead. Once they’re all standing, Boden turns to Violet and shakes her hand. “Welcome to 51, Lin. And don’t worry, I’m not one to break tradition. We’ll get you those doughnuts before the end of shift. We all want you to feel at home here.”

She blushes in a rare instance of embarrassment as she shakes his hand in return. “Oh, it’s no big deal, Chief. Don’t worry about it.” She releases his hand and clears her throat. “I have a bad habit of talking too much. I’m very grateful to be here. I’ve heard nothing but great things. It’s an honor to ride in 61.”

Sylvie’s eyes briefly meet Casey’s as they all exit Boden’s office. She wants to stop and chat but she’s been avoiding it for so long that she doesn’t know how to start. The opportunity ends abruptly as Violet officially latches onto her. The younger paramedic is now fully swept up in the excitement of her first day.

“That probably wasn’t the best first impression,” Lin says apologetically. “I don’t know what gets into me sometimes. Words just spill out of my mouth before I can stop them.” She clears her throat. “I’m also a little nervous.”

Sylvie tilts her head at her curiously. “Why? I’ve seen you in action. You’re very capable.”

Her eyes widen and she gulps. “Oh, um, thank you! I mean, I know that, obviously. I work my ass off to be the best of the best, but I didn’t know _you_ noticed. I almost couldn’t believe it when I got the assignment to be partnered with you. Seemed too good to be true.”

Sylvie stops mid-stride, utterly confused by what she just heard. “What?”

“What?” Violet asks, looking just as confused.

“What do you mean, too good to be true?”

Violet blinks at her as if it should be obvious. “Well, you--you’re _great_ at your job. I mean, everyone I talked to raves about you. You have, like, this crazy impressive reputation. I spent all of last year trying to low-key observe you and Foster when we were on calls together. Never thought I’d get an opportunity to learn from you up close and personal.”

For the life of her, Sylvie has no idea how to respond. “61’s reputation is probably more Foster’s doing than mine. She had all this medical knowledge that was incredibly useful--”

“I’m not talking about 61’s reputation,” Violet insists, cutting off her attempt to deflect. “I’m talking about _yours_.”

They’ve almost reached the common room again when Sylvie hears footfalls behind them. She’s processing Violet’s words and trying to form a reply when an interruption saves her from having to respond.

“Brett.”

She turns her head to find Matt coming to a stop beside them. 

“Hey,” she replies with an irrepressible soft smile. Even after avoiding him for the last few weeks, she can’t help it. 

He nods and grins. “Hey.” His head turns to acknowledge her partner. “Violet Lin, right?” At her nod he continues. “Good to meet you. Captain Matt Casey,” he says introducing himself.

“I know,” she replies with a smirk. “I’ve heard all about you from Gallo, but it’s nice to actually meet you, Captain.” She looks at Brett and points to the common room. “I’m gonna go get some breakfast before the roll call. Meet you at the rig for inventory after the Morning Brief?”

Sylvie nods. “Absolutely.”

Violet marches away and Casey’s amused eyes follow her before giving Brett a questioning look. “So, first impressions of our new medic?”

Work, good. That’s a safe topic. She chuckles and shakes her head. “Not quite sure yet. She seems to take the job seriously, but that’s all I know as of now. It’s certainly going to be an interesting adjustment.”

“Not sure what that last part means,” Casey says in concern.

“No, nothing bad,” she assures him. “She just...said some things I don’t know how to process.”

“Like what?” He asks.

“She said she spent last year trying to watch Foster and I on calls and didn’t think she’d get the chance to... _learn_ from me,” Sylvie confesses hesitantly. This conversation is going to hedge around a few of her deepest insecurities. She hasn’t been this open with Matt since Foster left, three weeks ago. But, try as she might, she can’t stay away from him. He pulls her in, as easily and naturally as gravity. “Like I’m on some sort of pedestal or something and a few other things about how I have such a good reputation--I’ve never really thought about my reputation, to be honest. I may have the PIC title but I feel like I’ve always been paired with someone who has more job knowledge than me. It’s hard to see how people would be impressed with me when I’m standing next to someone much more assertive than I’ll ever be.”

She doesn’t mention anyone by name, but Casey’s familiar with every one of her partners. Certainly he’s remembering Gabby and Mills along with Foster. All three had a presence that was very commanding and everyone loved them. Mills and Dawson are still whispered about with a kind of reverence Sylvie feels she’ll never have. She’s fine with it. She’s never felt the need to be the center of attention. She knows her coworkers respect her and see her as an equal; that’s all she needs.

But every now and then, the insecurity of constantly coming in second eats at her. She’s always _just shy_ of good _enough_. So, yeah, the praise Violet threw at her was hard to accept. It isn’t something she hears very often despite feeling fairly confident she’s _damn good_ at her job.

The concern on Matt’s face deepens and he steps closer to her, crowding her space despite the hallway being clear of anyone who might overhear them. “Sylvie, I’ve worked with a lot of paramedics over the years and some of them may have been a lot louder than you but none of them were _better_ than you. Of course Lin wants to learn from you. You’re one of the best, most committed, people in the department. If you don’t know that then we haven’t shown you enough appreciation.”

Her breath catches in her throat as his words seem to reach into her chest and wrap around her heart. She knew Matt respected her, but she never dreamed she’d ever hear such strong verbal admiration from him. “I didn’t say all of that to fish for compliments--”

He laughs lightly as he interrupts her. His eyes are full of fondness as they focus on her and only her. “I know that. You’re entirely too modest to ever fish for compliments, and you shouldn’t _have_ to. You’re remarkable and Violet’s right to follow your example. In my opinion, more people should.”

Warmth floods her face, she knows she’s probably pink all over, but such focused attention from Matt Casey is a bit overwhelming. She feels the insane urge to kiss him. She won’t, but the urge is still there. “I--I don’t know what to say, Matt.”

“Say thank you and accept the praise,” he insists. “You deserve it.”

She laughs and takes a breath, prepared to say and do exactly as she’s told, when the bells go off. Those bells always seem to have terrible timing.

_“AMBULANCE 61, INJURIES FROM A FALL, WABASH AND--”_

“That’s my cue,” she says, throwing him a bright smile. “See you later.”

“Be careful,” he replies, deliberately catching her eye. His mouth forms a stern downturned curve, giving her the impression that he means it more today than he would any other day.

She nods and squeezes his arm as she jogs past him. She’s always careful, but she knows why he's more worried today, of all days.

“Can I drive?” Violet asks as they meet up on the app floor.

“Sure,” Brett says with a grin as she tosses her partner the keys. “But PIC picks the music.” Brett hops in the passenger side and presses her radio. “61 to Main, we’re en route.”

Sylvie keeps a sharp eye out as they reach the scene, looking for anyone suspicious hovering nearby. She was so busy looking for a suspicious individual that she nearly missed the large dump truck barreling through a cross street.

The shout to bring Violet’s attention to it never makes it off her lips. The back of the ambo is rammed and sent violently spinning into traffic. Everything happens in slow motion, but she registers enough to realize she and Violet are both still conscious. There’s broken glass everywhere and they’re flopping around like ragdolls but they’re both definitely awake.

The spinning stops a half a second before the back door of the Ambo creaks open. They hear shuffling through the open window behind them along with the rustling of broken glass and plastic bags. Violet’s eyes go to Brett’s as she reaches for her radio. Sylvie’s hand darts out to stop her, covering it before Lin can press the button to talk.

She shakes her head. The action hurts like hell against the seatbelt that’s been pulled taut by their momentum, but she can’t let her make a sound. It’ll give them away and they don’t know if this guy is armed -- or what he might be armed with.

Sylvie holds a finger to her lips and maintains Violet’s angry stare. Her partner wants to take action. She can see the impulsive rage in the younger woman’s eyes. But Brett can’t let her do that. She’d never forgive herself if anything happened to Violet on her watch.

They have to sit tight and hope he thinks they’re out cold.

“Main to 61, report.” There’s a pause and then. “Main to 61, have you arrived on scene?”

The shuffling stops and Sylvie holds her breath, slowly reaching up to switch her radio off. She nods at Violet, who reluctantly does the same. Brett can see the doubt in her partner’s eyes and bites back a cynical scoff. So much for wanting to learn from her. She won’t be on that pedestal for too much longer after this. 

If she were Dawson she’d have reported in and taken the fight to their attacker, damn the consequences. Mills would have engineered some sort of some brilliant rescue that came from his specialized Squad training. But that’s not her. She measures the weight of her actions and the inherent risk involved. Right now, she and Violet are safer sitting tight.

But if that status quo ever changes, there’s not much she won’t do to protect her partner. No matter who that partner is.

******

Matt hovers near Tower. He heard Sylvie over the radio advising Main they were on their way. They should be reaching the scene any moment now.

_“Main to 61, report.”_

The silence that follows is deafening. He holds his breath, but no reply ever comes.

_“Main to 61, have you arrived on scene?”_

It’s not like Sylvie to ignore a radio call. He can count on one hand the times that she’s not responded to a check in and in every instance, trouble followed. The next step of the protocol is for Main to ping their location and try to get a view on a traffic camera. This shouldn’t take any more than a few minutes. If something is wrong another call will go out for assistance.

Now, he needs to hope the next five minutes passes without a peep from the--

_“TRUCK 81, SQUAD 3, VEHICULAR COLLISION, WABASH AND--”_

“Shit!” Matt curses as he makes a break for the truck, interrupting the rest of the location. He doesn’t need it. He knows exactly where they’re going. 

Sylvie and Violet are in trouble.

Matt climbs in the Truck with Kidd hot on his heels. “Kidd, I’m gonna need you to floor it. That’s Sylvie’s scene.”

“What?” Stella asks in horror. “Captain, are you sure?”

“They never reported in to Main after they left. I’m sure. Get us there. _Now_.”

If it’s possible to break the sound barrier in a firetruck then Stella Kidd just did it. He’s never seen her drive faster.

His stomach drops like a rock when they arrive at the scene. A dump truck t-boned into the back of the rig. The cab looks untouched with the exception of the broken windows on the wide open doors, but it’s empty.

Gallo bounds out of the truck before Kidd’s come to a full stop and Casey’s not far behind him. Gallo does a lap around the rig. He shouts when he disappears around the passenger side.

“I found Violet! Over here!” He yells.

When they reach them, he’s helping Lin sit up. There’s a goose egg covered in a nasty blossoming bruise forming on her forehead and what looks like a fabric burn on her neck from the seatbelt. She winces as she comes too and then glances around frantically.

“Oh, god,” she says as her eyes well up with tears.

“Lin,” Casey says as he crouches in front of her. “Where’s Brett?”

“This is all my fault,” she mutters.

“What’s all your fault?” Gallo asks softly, with a hand on her back.

“She--she tried to tell me to sit tight, but he tried to bulldoze us and steal our stock! I was pissed! But I should have listened. Dammit, I should have listened!”

The horrible feeling putting pressure on Matt’s chest squeezes tighter. From the minute he read that headline this morning he should have known today would be like living out all his worst nightmares. 

“Lin,” Matt says, using his most authoritative tone. “What happened?”

“The guy hit us! And he was rummaging through the back of the Ambo. Brett told me to keep quiet and turned off our radios after Main tried to get a hold of us, but I--I didn’t understand why. I got out and thought maybe I could lock him inside until you guys showed up. But he saw me coming, pointed a gun at me. She got out and distracted him, drew his attention. And then…” 

She looks like she’s trying to remember and having a hard time reaching a particular memory, but when she does she points down the alley and tries desperately to stand. “He had a black town car parked there. I didn’t see the tag but it had the name of a car service on the side. You gotta get PD to tail it right now!”

“What? Why?” Kidd asks. “Where’s Brett?”

“He drove off with her!” Violet shouts in frustration as if they aren’t listening to her. “He heard the sirens and he freaked! He wanted me to get in the car too but she talked him out of it. Said he only needed one hostage.”

One _hostage._

_Hostage._

“And that’s when he coldcocked me,” Violet finishes, tears streaming down her face. “I should have just done what she said. I should have kept quiet and stayed still. Oh god, what did I do?”

He can feel the rage building in his throat. He’s angrier than he’s been in years. There’s a screaming lecture on the edge of his consciousness. Fucking yes she should have listened to Sylvie. If she’d have listened to Sylvie they’d both be on the scene right now having lost nothing more than a few vials of painkillers. But no. Sylvie had to get assigned a fucking stubborn impulsive and competitve adrenaline junkie for a partner. The kid could get her killed! Next time her PIC gives her an order, she needs to goddamn listen. This job has real fucking consequences and she’s just put Sylvie at risk of being one of them!

He sucks in a deep breath and just as he’s about to release all of this into the atmosphere Kelly’s hand clamps down on his shoulder. 

“She feels bad enough, man. Rein it in,” he says in a hushed voice. Before Matt can argue Severide’s shouting into the radio on his shoulder. “Squad 3 to Main, Robbery suspect escaped in a black town car with our PIC as a hostage. Requesting immediate police assistance.”

Stella takes one look at Casey and winces. He must look as livid as he feels. 

Kidd clears her throat and gives Gallo a hand with Violet. “Come on, kid. Let’s take a look at you back at the Truck.”

Her instinct to get Violet out of his sight as quickly as possible is spot on.

Matt pulls his phone out of his pocket and flips through his contacts for a specific number. He turns to Severide with a clenched jaw and a hand tightly fisted around his phone. “You update the Chief. I’m calling Voight.”

Kelly doesn’t question him. He simply nods and walks away.

His hatred of Voight is no match for his feelings for Sylvie. He’d do anything for her and that includes calling a man he begrudgingly works with but will never trust. 

“Heard your buddy, Severide, over the radio,” Voight greets, not bothering with a hello. “We’re already on it. Jay’s got the satellite footage from the CFD and put out a BOLO. We’ll find them.”

“You’d better.”

“Hey, she may be part of your firehouse but she’s close to my people too,” Voight assures him. “They’re not going to let her down. Get over to the District. We’ll keep you in the loop.”

Nothing else is said, the call is disconnected. Matt feels numb and sick to his stomach all at once. He cannot and will not lose Sylvie. There’s panic and fear simmering in his chest. He knows eventually it’ll explode out of him but now is not the time. Not in front of his crew.

Truck and Squad have gotten to work roping off the scene by the time Matt feels composed enough to rejoin them, knowing it’ll eventually need to be catalogued by CPD. Boden pulls up just as Casey reaches Severide.

“Just got off with Voight,” Boden tells him. He tosses Matt the keys to his buggey. “Take my ride. I’ll head back with Truck. Keep us all informed.”

Matt nods. Boden looks worried but much more composed than Casey. Truck will better off with him right now anyway. “Thank you, Chief.”

He speeds to the district and he doesn’t give a damn. Sylvie’s in danger. The rest of the world can burn for all he cares. He marches through the district doors like a man on fire and Trudy immediately points him to the stairs.

“They’re waiting. Go on up.”

As he enters, Intelligence is scrambling around, yelling things into hardline phones, and passing files back and forth. He can’t make sense of any of it right now. 

“That car service reported a vehicle stolen just this morning,” Jay announces. “Got the plate.”

“Get it out there on the street,” Voight orders. “Now.”

“Got ‘em!” Upton yells as she hangs up her phone. “Squad cars are in pursuit of a black town car right now that was swerving erratically and ignoring speed limits. They’re reporting one driver and one passenger. No detailed visual, though. They haven’t gotten close enough yet.”

“Where?” Atwater asks, nodding at Matt as he spots him.

“Last report said they were reaching the 100 block of West Oak heading toward Michigan Ave.”

Voight nods once. “What are you standing around here for? Go!” He points at Casey when he starts to follow. “Not you. You’re staying in my office with me. They’ll keep us updated from here.”

He glares at Voight but nods. What else is he supposed to do? If he fights him on it then he’ll send him back to 51 where he’ll have access to _nothing_. He hates sitting on his ass but he’ll take informed and forced to sit on his hands over oblivious and worried out of his mind any day.

Voight shuts his office door behind them and turns on a radio, leaving it out on his desk for both of them to hear. While waiting for more chatter, Matt texts Boden and Severide with an update. He’s deliberately focusing on what’s happening now and choosing to ignore the ways this could end badly. He’s got too much left unsaid when it comes to Sylvie Brett. He can’t imagine a world where he never gets to say any of it. He refuses.

She’ll be fine.

She has to be.

He’s got shit luck, he knows, but it has to turn around at some point, doesn’t it?

******

There’s a gun pointed at her head and a steering wheel in her hands. He’s directing her through Chicago, leading her who knows where. She has a feeling he doesn’t have a plan which is much more terrifying than the alternative. Without a plan the situation is ten times more volatile. He’s panicking and scared. Trigger fingers and panic rarely work well together.

The lights and sirens are catching up to them. Cars much faster than the standard issue squad cars have entered the chase. She knows exactly who they belong to.

Intelligence is on her trail which means 51 called them. She has people to get back to and a life she’d started to take for granted. She’d spent her summer down and a little distant. So many people had left her behind in the last couple of years, she convinced herself a little distance was necessary. Good for her even. She deserved a life outside of the firehouse.

But now she sees that for what it was.

 _Fear_.

Fear of accepting how deeply she cares for her 51 family. Fear of losing anyone else essential to her quality of life. But she’d barely seen Cruz since his wedding and that was more her doing than his. He tried to make plans but she begged off. Stella tried to make more time for her in the wake of Foster leaving, but Sylvie accepted only every third invitation from her friend. She could see how it hurt Kidd every time she refused. After all, Kidd’s friend moved away too. Sylvie wasn’t the only one to lose easy access to Foster. But getting close to anyone felt dangerous. In particular, Matthew Casey. If anyone has the potential to break her heart into tiny little pieces, it’s him. Not that she ever planned on telling him that.

But all the distance in the world doesn’t matter now. Depending on how this turns out, she might lose them all anyway. And the distance doesn’t make that idea hurt any less.

She’s been an idiot. A scared and insecure _idiot_. 

She wants her friends. Her Firehouse. _Her Matt_.

Even though he’s definitely not _hers_.

“How the fuck are they catching up to us?” Her captor asks her.

“We’re driving a town car, they’re driving sports cars and things with actual horsepower,” she tells him dryly. “I can only go so fast.”

“Shut up, bitch, I didn’t ask for a comment. Drive the goddamn car.”

This prick is really asking for it. She has to get out of this. She knows Intelligence is catching up but she can’t leave it all up to them. She needs a plan. She glances over at the criminal in the passenger seat out of the corner of her eye and realizes he’s not wearing a seatbelt. Yes, he has a gun on her but keeping a grip on that gun might be awfully hard without his seatbelt to keep him stabilized. She breathes deliberately in and out as she thinks through her options.

It’s dangerous as hell but, when compared to other possible scenarios, it has the least amount of risk.

She grits her teeth, closes her eyes, and slams her foot down on the break as fast and hard as she can. The car jerks to a stop, skidding across the pavement a few feet, before she feels the jolting impact of the car behind her. There’s a crash and a scream and she feels shards of broken glass slicing across her face. Everything else is static. Loud, roaring, static. 

An airbag explodes out of the steering wheel and a burning punch of compressed pressure hits her face, bending her neck at an odd angle. The seatbelt pulls at a different spot on her neck than the one in the ambo did. She feels the friction burn against her delicate skin just before consciousness slips away. Her last action is to press a hand to her side. Something wet and sticky drew her attention.

 _Fuck_ , she thinks as the world darkens. _Is that blood?_

******

_“Christ! Stop! Everybody Stop!”_

_“Town car stopped in the middle of the road. Got rear ended pretty bad. One of the passengers in the town car busted through the windshield and into the road.”_

_“This is Burgess. I was closest. The squad car in front of me couldn’t get stopped in time to avoid impact. Walking up on the scene now.”_

Matt holds his breath. The image of Sylvie lying on the pavement intrudes on him and forces him to shut his eyes as tight as he can. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes as if he can drive away the image by force.

_“Did anybody else hear a gunshot in the middle of that chaos? I thought I did but I could be wrong.”_

_“Nah, I heard it. Burgess is checking on the victim in the road. I’m headed toward the vehicle.”_

_“We’re almost to you, Ruzek. Watch your six.”_

_“Victim in the road is the assailant. He’s not breathing and he has no pulse. He’s gone.”_

_“Roll an ambo to the scene. Found Brett. She’s in the driver’s seat. GSW to her side. She’s pinned in pretty good. Gonna need an assist.”_

Jesus fucking Christ. He texts Boden and Severide the location. God, which hospital is that closest to?

_“Battalion 25 to Main. Truck 81 and Squad 3 are on their way for the assist.”_

Boden’s voice is loud and reassuring. It has the effect of a blanket on a victim who’s going into shock. If his guys are gonna be on scene then he knows she’s in good hands. 

“Casey,” Voight says. His voice is loud. Matt gets the impression he’s been trying to get his attention for several minutes. Everything has narrowed to the radio. He’s pretty certain his future is going to be determined by whatever they say next. “From that location they’ll take her to Med. You should meet them there.”

“They haven’t gotten her out of the vehicle yet, I need to know—“

“Those are your people arriving on scene. You honestly think they won’t be able to get her out of there safely?” Voight asks him with a flat look. “Go to Med. Get a head start on the traffic. Be waiting on your girl when she gets there.”

It crosses his mind to correct Voight’s assumption that Brett is “his girl” but he quickly realizes he doesn’t give a damn. Maybe she’s not technically his girl, but it hurts like she is. He’s terrified. How bad is the wound? How heavily is she bleeding? Are there any internal injuries? How quickly can they get her out of there and to the ER?

“Casey,” Voight says again. “Get the hell out of here. Go.”

His second order finally reaches through the fog of fear and makes it to Matt’s feet. He nods and takes off. Down the stairs, out the door, and into Boden’s buggy. He listens to his own radio as he drives. By the time he arrives at Med, Sylvie’s been unpinned and loaded into an ambo. Ambo 97 is two minutes out. 

He’s there waiting when the doors burst open and a flash of blonde hair rolls through. She looks absolutely tiny laid out on a stretcher, bagged, and wrapped in trauma dressing. There’s an angry looking burn on her cheek, gruesome bruise forming along her jaw, and tiny lacerations littering her face. He was terrified enough before but now he’s on the edge of panicking too.

He’s never seen her looking quite so helpless as this.

“GSW to the abdomen, possible head trauma,” a paramedic he doesn’t recognize announces as April and Dr. Halstead meet the stretcher at the door.

“Oh, Sylvie,” Will says once he's close enough. “What happened to you?”

He directs several nurses and the paramedics to a specific room and Matt slinks along behind them. He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to find Stella waiting with him.

“I rode along in the ambo,” she explains. “She’s fighting like hell. Her vitals were stronger than they should have been the entire ride here.”

A few minutes later, Halstead emerges. His eyes land on Stella and Matt immediately. 

“We’re taking her into surgery now. The bullet’s in deep and we’re worried about internal bleeding. We’ll send someone out to keep you up to date, but I’d recommend finding a seat,” Halstead says with a wan smile. He pats Matt's shoulder and looks between him and Stella. “I’ve got her from here. The minute she’s out of danger I’ll let you know.”

Halstead walks away and Matt blows out a ragged breath.

“Out of danger?” He asks Stella loudly, his voice full of disbelief. Both of his hands fist at his sides. 

“Come on, Captain,” Stella says as she rubs a circle on his back. “Let’s go sit.”

The rage he’s been reining in all day finally explodes. He turns and punches the wall as hard as he possibly can. The plaster and drywall yield under the force. It cracks and breaks around his hand with a sickening _thwack_. This day has been full of injustice after injustice and he can _not_ take it anymore. Sylvie doesn’t deserve any of this.

Maggie pops up at his side with a sympathetic wince. He sees her wave off a couple of guys, security he assumes, before she leads him over to an exam room. 

“Let me take a look at that, tough guy,” she says softly. “You know, Sylvie’s gonna make you come back and fix that once she’s awake, don’t you?”

That forces a soggy chuckle from his throat. “She won’t have to. I’d fix it anyway.”

“Wiggle your fingers for me,” she says as she releases his hand and pulls out the gauze. “I know you would. You’re a good man, Matt Casey. But if you punch my walls again, we’re gonna have words.”

He moves his fingers with a grimace. It hurts but he can manage. “I need her to be okay,” Matt admits with a thick swallow. “I just...God, I just _need_ her.”

“I don’t think anything’s broken, but if it starts to feel worse let me know. We’ll get x-rays,” she advises as she begins to clean his bloody knuckles. “Sylvie’s in good hands, Casey. Everyone here is gonna do all they can to make sure you get her back in one piece. Okay? But you gotta promise me you’ll calm down.”

“I will,” he swears. “Or at least tone down the anger, anyway.”

She nods as she wraps his knuckles. “Good. I don’t want to have to tell Sylvie that security escorted you from the building before she made it to recovery.” While she finishes the wrapping she leans out of the exam room and glances toward the lobby. “The rest of 51 just arrived. Go give them an update. We’re done here.”

“Thanks, Maggie,” Matt tells her with a heartfelt glance. “I really am sorry about the wall.”

“I know you are, but I can also see how stressed you are. You’re dealing with a lot of emotions. I get it,” she tells him before waving him away. “Go tell your friends what’s happening. Let them be there for you. I have to get back to work.”

He nods and walks away, finding Stella waiting outside the exam room. She’s studying the hole he left in the wall.

“Jesus, Captain, you break anything?” She asks.

“No, but I’m not Maggie’s favorite person right now. That’s for sure.”

“You still gonna deny how you feel about Brett?” Kidd asks, pointedly glancing between him and the wall.

“I think I’d rather talk to Brett about that first. _If_ I get to talk to her.”

“You will. I’m not losing my best friend to a hit and run and a robbery. We’re manifesting that into existence right now,” Stella declares resolutely. She nods her head to the waiting room. “Come on, 51’s waiting. You want to tell them or should I?”

“I don’t know that I can,” Matt admits sheepishly.

“Okay,” Stella says, squeezing his arm. “Then I’ve got your back, Cap. Let’s go.”

******

Is she floating? Or underwater? She feels off balance and everyone sounds muffled. And, god, it’s cold. She’s _freezing_. 

She has the briefest flash to the Polar Plunge. All of 51 together. Including Otis and Foster. Matt standing behind her. Waiting to jump into freezing cold water. How did she ever get talked into that? That memory is followed by a deep well of sadness. Otis is gone. He’s not coming back. Foster left. Sylvie doesn’t know if she’ll ever return. And everyone else is…

Well, she doesn’t know. She can’t see or hear them.

Her hands are tingling. She flexes them and gropes at the air. Her hand lands on scratchy linens and soft fleece. No, that’s not what she was looking for. She wants warmth. Strength. Stability.

A face appears behind her closed eyelids. _His_ face. Warmth. Strength. Stability. 

Her mind wanders again, but not quite so far back this time. She sees herself touching his face, inspecting a day old split lip while he dons a bow tie and tuxedo jacket — his skin radiating heat under brief touch. Where’s that heat? She needs it.

She’s _so cold_.

She hears her name. It’s muffled but she recognizes it. It’s not the voice she wants to hear though. It’s not _his_ voice.

“Sylvie?” 

The voice comes into focus all of a sudden. It’s as if her head finally surfaced above the water. But it didn’t help much. She still feels far away and chilled.

“It’s Dr. Halstead. Are you with us?”

Disgust rolls through her stomach. No. She doesn’t want him. He’s perfectly nice but she’s cold and alone and...scared. So damn scared.

Her lips finally move. She’s been trying forever but they felt glued shut. Her voice sounds hoarse even to her own ears and she hums weakly when her lips won’t quite form the words.

She’s too far away from herself. She’s floating away. She needs a rope, a hand to grip — a tether.

“Matt.”

 _Finally._ The bed beneath her feels sturdier simply by uttering his name.

“I’ve got you, girl,” a kind, much warmer, voice says as whoever it is pats Sylvie’s hand. “He’s as eager to see you as you are to see him. Just ask the walls.”

Halstead chuckles from somewhere on her opposite side. “You’re on a lot of pain killers, Brett. Are you joining us or going back to sleep?”

She groans through a wave nausea as the distinct smell of a hospital floods her nostrils. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

“That’s a reaction to the drugs. Nausea is perfectly normal.”

Her eyelids feel heavy but she manages to ease them open and breathes deeply. Her half-lidded gaze drags it’s way over to Will. “If it’s perfectly normal then I guess you won’t mind if I barf all over you cause that’s gonna happen.”

He smirks and shakes his head at her while waving a plastic pink bin at her. “Bed pan,” he tells her. “Intended to catch barf. Got us both covered.”

“What a gentleman,” she quips dryly.

“A sense of humor is a good sign. Must not be feeling too miserable,” Will says, setting the bed pan down and picking up her chart. “Do you want me to update you now or should we wait for Casey?”

“That depends,” she says, her voice fading with every word. “Good news or bad news?”

Will holds out a cup of water, with the straw pointed toward her mouth. Sylvie’s hands won’t move to grab it and she releases a frustrated huff.

Halstead rolls his eyes with a fond grin. “Stop being stubborn and drink. Paramedics are always the worst patients.”

She obliges him and takes a long sip of water. It’s iced and far too cold. Her skin is already chilled. But it soothes the rawness in her throat and revives her voice. She clears her throat and repeats herself. “Good news or bad news? I don’t want Matt hearing bad news.”

“In my professional opinion? Good news,” Will tells her. “But there might be some things regarding your recovery that _you’re_ not going to like.”

“What does _that_ mean?” Sylvie asks.

Will never has a chance to answer. Maggie appears at the sliding glass doors and steps aside with a playful flourish. Revealing the most beautiful sight Sylvie thinks she’s ever seen.

Matt Casey. His eyes shine with tears and his breath catches as they scan the length of her, but he doesn’t say a word.

“I found your Matt,” Maggie tells her.

Is he? Can she call him _her_ Matt? She’d like to. But for the longest time she told herself it wasn’t possible. Though, that was before she thought she’d lost him forever. Her thoughts are interrupted by the return of the chill. The shiver that seizes her reflects in her voice.

“Matt.”

Her eyes fill with tears to match his and she feels her face begin to pinch. He’s next to her in a flash, taking up the chair by her bed and clasping his hand around hers. There it is. The warmth and the strength and the stability. It’s everything she’s been craving since she began to come to.

“You’re okay,” he tells her. She can’t tell if he’s assuring her or himself. “You’re here and you’re awake.”

“We’ll just give you two a moment,” Maggie says as she pointedly aims her words at Will. 

“Sure,” Will agrees, emerging from Sylvie’s chart -- oblivious to the emotional reunion in front of him. His eyes widen when he looks up and sees Matt in the chair, with his hand around Sylvie’s leaning as close to her as he can manage across the hospital bed. “ _Oh_ , right. Yes, a moment. Good idea, Maggie.”

They leave the room and close the sliding doors (and curtains) behind them. Which means Matt and Sylvie are alone for the first time since she’d left the house who knows how many hours ago.

She sniffles and glances down at the hand holding hers, noticing the gauze wrapped around his knuckles. “What happened to your hand?”

“You’re the one in the hospital and you’re worried about my hand?” He asks her, edging so close to her that his cheek grazes her forehead. Warmth radiates off of him. She wants to bury herself in it. “Jesus,” he says as he rubs his other hand over the back of hers. “You’re cold as ice.”

“It’s the drugs,” she replies, her voice thick with unshed tears. “They make me cold and nauseous. If I throw up on you, I’m sorry.”

The waterlogged chuckle that escapes him heals a tiny piece of her. 

“I don’t care,” he tells her. “You’re alive, that’s all that matters. Throw up on me all you want.”

A tear rolls down her cheek even as she scrunches up her nose in distaste. “That’s gross.” 

She shivers again and this time Matt rubs his calloused hands up and down her arms, hoping to generate some heat. It does. Though maybe not the kind of heat he was intending.

He closes the distance between them and presses a kiss to her hairline. He’s never done that before. She loves it. He keeps his lips pressed to her head as he breathes deeply, taking in the scent of her hair. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I scared the hell out of myself,” she admits, swallowing back the sob that threatens to overtake her. “I’ve been so stupid.”

“What?” He asks, reeling back to look at her in surprise. “No, Sylvie, you were brilliant. You saved Violet’s life. You--”

“No, I don’t mean about that,” she says softly. His hands are still rubbing up and down her arms and she wraps her slender fingers around his forearms to stop him. “I pushed everyone away. I pushed _you_ away. I didn’t want to lose anyone else but I didn’t see that I was...I was losing all of you anyway and today I--I could have ended up missing out on being with my family for the rest of my life.”

Tears stream down her cheeks as she confides in him. She knows he won’t judge her. He never has. He listens. He encourages. He makes her feel like the most important person in the world. She can’t explain it accurately, but she’s never felt it before. Not with anyone else. It’s the reason he had her running scared. She _needs_ him and if he were ever to leave she didn’t think she’d survive it.

“I could have missed out on being with _you_ ,” she admits, finishing her confession. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I should have run toward you and everyone else at 51. But, god, losing Julie hurt so much. Letting anyone else become that essential felt like a risk I couldn’t take. Especially when I wasn’t certain how _you_ felt about _me._ I couldn’t take a chance at going all in if you weren’t going there with me. Maybe that’s cowardly, I don’t know, but I can’t live in fear anymore. Having my defenses all the way up didn’t make me any happier. I missed _you_. I missed Stella and Joe. God, I missed _everyone_ and it _hurt_. To think I could have gone out taking all of you for granted...”

She trails off as her grip on her emotions slips further and further away. She’d avoided sobbing as long as she could. Normally, crying like this is done alone. In her car or her bedroom, sometimes even the shower. The one glaring exception was crying onto Matt’s shoulder the shift after Julie’s funeral. She still can’t believe she did that. It felt like some other person. The person she was before Harrison made her feel weak and Antonio made her feel overdramatic.

And now she’s about to do it again. Except this time the stupid hospital bed is in their way and she can’t burrow herself into him.

He has a solution for that, though, it seems. She feels his arms gently ease their way under her back and her knees. He carefully lifts and slides her over, freeing up space on the bed. She watches him through blurry, watery eyes, as he crawls in and stretches out next to her. She doesn’t ask him what he’s doing. She knows and she has no intention of stopping him.

He’s her tether. Her grounding wire. Her warmth and strength.

Once he’s settled, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and she eagerly folds herself into his embrace. The sobs shake themselves loose while Matt’s arms envelope her protectively. She tucks her face into the curve of his neck and he angles himself so that his chin rests on the crown of her head. He doesn’t say a word, but every so often she feels a kiss pressed into her hair.

When the crying begins to subside, he nuzzles his nose into her hair and lowers his head so that his lips rest against her temple. He only pulls them away when he begins to speak.

“Listen, no one, certainly not me, blamed you for stepping back to take care of yourself. You lost a lot in a short amount of time. There’s no right or wrong way to deal with that. And you...God, Sylvie. You are so damn strong. You impress me every day. There shouldn’t be a day that goes by that I don’t tell you that, but I’m not very good at speeches. Never have been.”

“You’re doing pretty good right now,” she tells him with a loud sniffle.

His soggy snicker, rumbles against her. It comforts in a way nothing has before. He takes in a breath and huffs it out, the heat of it fans out over her skin. “I’ve been stupid too,” he declares. “I watched you from across rooms and worried over you and tried to find every excuse I could think of to spend time with you but I never once considered telling you the truth about why I do those things. I kept telling myself we had time. You had too much going on. Or it was too messy and you’d never go for it. I had excuse after excuse, but it was none of those things. It was all me. I can’t screw up again. Not with you. I’ve been terrified to try because deep down I felt like I would end up ruining everything. I seem to be pretty good at that. But today, I realized the only thing worse than ruining things with you would be never _trying_. I don’t want to have any regrets and if things had ended any differently tonight then not letting you know how I feel about you would have been my biggest one.”

How he feels about her? How _does_ he feel about her? She’s dying to ask for clarification. The question that would pry it out of him is on the tip of her tongue, but a knock on the glass door interrupts them.

Matt drops another kiss to her temple. This one rushed and habitual. Oddly, the casual quickness made it feel _more_ intimate, not less. “We’ll finish this later. Maybe when we’re _not_ in a hospital.”

Later? No! She wants to finish it now. 

But she has no such luck. The door opens and Dr. Halstead steps through.

“Well,” Will says with a knowing grin. “You got pretty far in a matter of minutes. Are we ready to go over your release and in home care or should I come back?”

“Release?” She asks eagerly.

Halstead quirks a brow at her. “Not so fast. We’re keeping you overnight. You had emergency surgery to remove a bullet and we want to keep an eye on you and make sure there’s no further complications. You were lucky it missed all your vital organs and caused only minor internal bleeding. If it all goes according to plan then I anticipate you’ll be good to go home by mid-morning -- as long as you have someone at home to keep an eye on you, of course.”

“Oh trust me,” Matt tells him. “51’s got that covered.”

“I figured as much,” Will replies with a smirk. “You’re gonna have to take it easy for a few weeks, and we’ll see you back here for a post-op follow up in a couple of days.”

Sylvie’s eyes narrow on him. “How many weeks is a few weeks?”

“Not sure,” he answers honestly. “Hopefully two to four depending on how well you take care of yourself when you go home and how quickly your body heals.”

“Two to _four_?” Sylvie asks. “That’s a big jump. I _just_ got a new partner. I can’t leave her with someone I don’t trust for an entire _month_. I--”

“Thanks, doc,” Matt says, cutting Sylvie off while tossing a firm yet bemused glance her way. “She’ll do whatever you need her to do to recover _safely._ ”

Sylvie crosses her arms over her chest and glares at Matt as Will leaves them alone once again. “Two weeks, _tops_.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how it goes,” he tells her with a stern expression. “Going back out on the rig before you’re really ready won’t help you _or_ your partner. Whoever that might be.”

“Whoever that might be?” She asks him, proceeding cautiously. “Matt, please tell me no one’s booted Violet.”

His eyes darken and his jaw clenches. “She almost got you killed, Sylvie. You gave her an order, she disobeyed it, and _look_ what happened? No matter how you spin it, that’s insubordination. You can’t go out on that rig every day with a partner that unpredictable and impulsive.”

A laugh bubbles up from her throat and can’t be stifled. Normally, she’d have been able to stop it, but the pain medication has loosened her normal filters. “All I’ve had are partners that unpredictable and impulsive, Matt. The only difference between Mills, Dawson, Foster, and _Violet_ is that she’s not as seasoned. She has potential. All she needs is a little guidance. I’m not letting one mistake end her career.”

Matt’s expression is doubtful. Sylvie loops her arm through his and rests her head on his shoulder.

“You remember when Gallo first joined Truck?” Sylvie asks him. “How reckless he was?”

“Yeah, I almost bounced him for it,” Matt says, as if he thinks she’s helping him make his point.

She nods against his shoulder and then looks up to meet his eyes. “But you didn’t. He’s still on Truck, and how’s he doing now?”

“It’s not the same. Truck is a whole team of guys. Out there in 61 it’s just you and her. How do I, or Boden for that matter, know something like this won’t happen again?”

“I almost got Chili and I shot once,” Sylvie confesses. “Guy aimed a gun at us to get us to work on his friend. They were cooking meth in some abandoned warehouse and he didn’t want us to take his buddy to the hospital.” She takes a deep breath and shakes her head at her past self. “I got in his face. Yelled at him. I _told him_ to shoot me. _If you’re gonna do it, do it!_ Were my exact words, I think. By some miracle, he dropped the gun and ran away.” She pauses and takes a moment to shake away the shame of the bad memory. “Look, we all make mistakes. At some point in our careers, we make an impulsive choice when we know we shouldn’t.” She squeezes his arm and smirks at him teasingly. “I know a Truck Captain who threw himself under an out of control elevator car once. I thought I was going to have to use the defib on Severide that day.”

Matt blushes in embarrassment and reluctantly nods, conceding her point.

“What’s important isn’t the mistake; it’s how we learn from it,” Sylvie says, turning her head and resting her chin on his shoulder. She glances up at him with wide beseeching eyes as she continues. “I want to keep Violet with me on 61. She deserves a second chance. Can you give her that?”

His eyes meet hers but he remains pensive and quiet. She’s not sure she’s convinced him.

She gives the arm she’s holding a gentle tug. “Come on, for me? Please?”

“Fine,” he complies, sighing in resignation. “I’ll talk to Boden. But that’s strike one. Two more and she’s out.”

“Understood, Captain Casey,” Sylvie replies with a teasing grin. “Have I ever told you how much I _really_ like your Captain Casey voice?”

His eyebrows lift and he turns to her with a curious, lop-sided, smirk. He is eyes darken, giving his expression a wolfish quality. “No, but you definitely _should_. I’m extremely interested in your feedback.”

Is this flirting? Are _they_ flirting? Have they _ever_ flirted?

She’s about to take it a step further and suggest they maybe schedule a _private_ meeting to discuss her _feedback_ when his phone pings in his pocket, effectively popping the bubble of intimacy they’d built.

He checks his texts and then looks over at her. “Severide says Boden wants to come back. If that’s okay?”

“Yes, I can talk to him about Violet,” Sylvie says with a nod. 

Matt gives her a tired glance as he cautiously climbs out of her bed. “Sylvie…”

“You said you would talk to Boden so that’s what we’re going to do. Together,” she insists.

“Maybe we take a moment to relax instead? You _just_ woke up after having emergency surgery to remove a _bullet_ from your abdomen. Work can _probably_ wait,” Matt says with dry exasperation.

“Right, like you’d ever let it wait,” Sylvie replies with a scoff. “I’m perfectly cognizant and functional. Just slightly woozy and I would give almost _anything_ for like 5 more blankets. Otherwise, I’m _fine_. We’re talking to Boden.”

******

They talked to Boden. He would have preferred to accomplish that task without Sylvie so he could properly convey his own individual concerns about Violet, but that’s fine. Chief agreed Violet deserved another chance, but he said he would be having a discussion with her about the chain of command. Sylvie is essentially an officer, at least equal in rank to Herrmann and Severide, and her experience has value. 

Boden is also worried that Violet, like Gallo last year, may think herself invincible.

Matt thinks Violet may have just learned that lesson the hard way but that’s for Chief to decide, not him.

Various people come in and out of Sylvie’s room, but Matt isn’t one of them. He stays the entire time. Through the different pairings and groups that come to wish her well or bring her get-well presents, he plants himself in the chair beside her bed and never moves.

At least not until Violet is forcefully shoved into the room by Gallo and Ritter. 

“Can you give us a minute?” Sylvie asks him.

He tenses and looks between her and Lin hesitantly.

“Matt,” Sylvie says. Her voice is stern but her eyes are affectionate. “I phrased that like a question but it was definitely an order.”

“Okay,” he says with a soft snort. “I guess I’m going to get a coffee.”

“We’ll come with you,” Gallo says as he nods for Ritter to follow.

They’re halfway down the hall, Gallo and Ritter trailing several steps behind, before Casey registers the candidates are having a silent argument through gestures and glances behind his back.

“Say what you need to say, fellas,” Casey calls over his shoulder as they come to a stop in front of the coffee machine.

“Is Violet getting fired?” Gallo blurts, looking anxious.

“Uh, no, that is not what I wanted to ask,” Ritter says with a roll of his eyes. 

“Well, it’s what _I_ want to ask,” Gallo tells him, jaw ticking with tension.

“That’s up to Boden,” Matt answers. “Though, my best guess is no. She was reckless today, but Sylvie doesn’t want her going anywhere so chances are good she stays on 61.”

Gallo’s shoulders sag in relief as he nods. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Ritter, your turn,” Matt orders as he makes his selection on the machine. The cup drops and the machine starts to hum. Matt prays this coffee doesn’t turn out to be sludge.

“Normally, this is a question I would ask Kidd but she stepped away to call Foster and hasn’t come back so…” Ritter drags out the last word and gives Casey a nervous look. “How long have you and Brett been, uh, _happening_?”

Matt almost laughs. No candidate, aside from Gabby, has ever tried to pry into his life before. But he can’t laugh. He doesn’t want them making a habit of it. He’s the Captain and they’re the candidates, if he wants them to know something he’ll offer it freely. Otherwise, it’s none of their concern. He grabs the cup as the machine finishes and turns to his candidates with a solemn stare.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t ask me that and take my coffee back to Brett’s room without any further discussion and you’re going to do the same, Copy?”

Ritter gulps at Matt’s flat, firm tone and nods. “Copy, Captain. This never happened.”

He shakes his head and chuckles to himself quietly as he walks away. Between Ritter, Gallo, and Violet the house is flush with a new younger energy. He appreciates it. There’s a sense around 51 now that the torch is being passed. Gallo and Ritter are well on their way to being great firefighters in their own right. They’ve proven that gradually. 

Ritter’s grown tremendously from that kid who froze up in the stairwell and Gallo has learned to follow directions better than a lot of more experienced Truckies. It took time, but they did it. His mind unintentionally circles back to Sylvie’s plea on Violet’s behalf. With Gallo and Ritter as reminders he now understands that, in this instance, Brett is seeing the bigger picture better and clearer than he’s able. All he sees is Sylvie putting her life on the line. It’s fogged everything else up. No matter who her partner is, Sylvie will _always_ be putting her life on the line -- same as him -- so why shouldn’t she use that risk to help shape the future of the CFD?

He told her himself that she’s the best the department has to offer. She’s patient and kind and never compromises on doing the _right_ thing. She knows her job inside and out and she gives it everything she has every time. CFD _needs_ more paramedics like her. She sees something in Violet. Matt should trust that -- _trust her_ \-- because _Violet_ is _Sylvie’s_ candidate and he knows she’ll make her better.

Sylvie makes everyone better.

He arrives back at the room just as Violet’s opening the sliding doors.

Violet smiles weakly at him, looking deeply regretful, and then waves an arm across the doorway. “Sorry about that. You can have your girlfriend back now.”

Sylvie’s eyes widen and she blushes. The blush distracts him from fretting over the cuts, bruises, and burns on her face like he’s been doing since he arrived at the hospital an uncounted number of hours ago.

“Oh, no, Violet, Casey and I aren’t--”

“Yeah, thanks, I appreciate that,” Matt says cutting Sylvie off and smiling encouragingly at Violet. “I think Gallo and Ritter are waiting for you at the end of the hall.”

“Oh! Thanks, Captain. I guess I’d better go,” she says with a strained grin. “Bye, Sylvie. I know sorry will never be enough but I--”

Sylvie holds up a hand to stop her babbling and shakes her head. “We talked about this. You’re already forgiven. One apology is enough.”

“I don’t know about that,” she mumbles -- too low for Sylvie to catch. Matt looks away from her and tires to pretend he didn’t hear her. Her volume increases and she nods reverently at Sylvie with a look of grateful awe. Matt knows that feeling well. “I know I’ve only worked with you a day and I royally screwed that up, but still...thank you for everything. I appreciate the opportunity.”

Her words sound like a goodbye and Matt knows, in that moment, she’s aware that her neck is on the line. In fact, he gets the impression that she assumes it’s all over and done with. She turns away from the door and starts to walk toward Ritter and Gallo. Her shoulders slump but she holds her head high. Dignity even in defeat. He can appreciate that.

“Hey, Lin,” he calls after her, leaning out the door so she sees him as she spins around. Her eyebrows lift and her expression is expectant. He offers her a hopeful half grin and a wave. “See you next shift. _At least_ an hour early.”

Everything about her brightens and expands. She nods eagerly and offers him an awkward, completely unnecessary, salute. “An hour early! Got it!”

“You're gonna clean whatever loaner rig we get inside and out. Understood?”

“I’ll clean it so good you could eat off of it!” She swears. “Thanks, Captain!”

When he faces Sylvie again, she’s smirking at him. 

“Matthew Casey, you big softie.”

“Don’t take this to mean I’m letting her off easy,” Matt warns her. “And Boden still makes the final call.”

“He’ll keep her if you say so,” she tells him with a proud grin. “He trusts you to want what’s best for the house.”

He shrugs and sits back down in the chair he’s claimed as his own. “And I trust _you_. If you say she’s a good fit then...that’s all there is to it. She stays.”

“Thank you,” Sylvie says softly, offering him a warm and thankful gaze. “That means a lot to me.”

This is his moment. He doesn’t want to have the full conversation in the hospital. It feels advantageous in a _wrong_ way, but he has a shot to give her at least a hint of the larger conversation to come. 

He decides to take it.

“And _you_ mean a lot to me, Sylvie Brett. From now on, I’m gonna make sure you know it. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

She looks startled by his words but not scared. He takes that as a good sign. He can see her processing what he’s said and trying to form a response. Her eyes find his and he swears she’s about to speak, but they’re interrupted -- typical for the two of them.

Maggie knocks on the doorway and smiles knowingly between them. “Visiting hours are over, kids. Sylvie needs her rest and she’s already had more visitors than I’d like.”

Matt nods and gathers up his jacket before leaning down to press a tender kiss to the top of Sylvie’s head. He lingers and inhales deeply, reassuring himself that she’s alive and well by indulging in the scent that’s uniquely her. 

When he pulls back, he meets her eyes with a gentle closed lipped smile. “Hold on to whatever you were about to say, Brett. I’ll be back in the morning.” She blinks at him and nods. He can’t tell if she’s still reeling from what he said or if her most recent dose of pain meds has kicked in. He straightens, addressing Maggie as he takes that first painful step away from Sylvie while recalling her chilled skin against his lips. “You guys should get her more blankets. Her teeth are practically chattering.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Maggie promises. “Boden’s made me promise to keep an extremely close eye on her so consider me her personal hospital concierge.” She points to Matt’s hand as he passes by her. “When you come back in the morning, you’d better have changed that bandage.”

“He won’t,” Sylvie quips. “For a man who insists on taking care of everyone else, he’s really not that great at taking care of _himself_.”

“Or,” he begins, grinning down at her. He feels encouraged by his most recent confession and decides to throw in another one...just for fun. “I prefer to have a certain blonde paramedic do it so I have an excuse to spend time with her. _Maybe_.”

With that said, he walks out of the room and down the hall before either Maggie or Sylvie can respond. He gets a brief peek of Sylvie’s shell shocked reaction and smirks proudly to himself as he leaves. Maybe he’s not the smoothest operator, but he does still have _some_ moves.

Moving forward, he plans to use them all on Sylvie Brett. And _only_ Sylvie Brett. He wants—and _needs_ —her. He’s done talking himself out of what he wants. No more excuses.

He’s pouring everything he’s got into pursuing her.

Until there’s nothing left.


	2. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt picks Sylvie up at Med the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some TLC/Caretaker Matt fluff for your hiatus weary souls!  
> Hope you like it!
> 
> Happy reading!  
> xoxo
> 
> PS - I swear I'm gonna get caught up on comment replies very soon! KEEP THEM COMING!

_******_

_“Keep me locked up in your eyes,_

_Before the sun pushes out the night,_

_Before we're whispers in the air,_

_Come on and take me without a care._

_I wanna know what it feels like,_

_To disappear into you and,_

_Never have to say goodbye._

_I wanna call love what it is,_

_And give you everything I've got to give.”_

_-“Till There’s Nothing Left” by Cam_

_******_

The first person Matt sees when he arrives at the hospital the next morning is Maggie. She smirks at him and points to his rebandaged hand.

“So, you _do_ remember your first aid training,” she teases. “Sylvie will be glad to know that.”

He huffs out a laugh and shrugs. “I told you both the truth last night. I only play dumb to spend more time with her.”

Maggie chuckles and falls into step next to him. “You sure threw that girl for a loop last night.” She winks and playfully smacks his arm. “Keep it up, Captain. You’ve got her right where you want her.”

They go their separate ways as Maggie heads for the ED and he heads upstairs. When he reaches Sylvie’s room, he finds Will standing by her bed asking final follow up questions.

“Looks like you’re all set, I’ll get started on your discharge paperwork. Take it easy, Brett.”

“She will,” Matt announces, leaning against the open doorway.

Sylvie looks up and meets his eyes. They’re clearer and brighter than they were yesterday. He assumes they’ve dropped her dosage to less impairing levels. 

“I’m guessing you’re her ride?” Will asks, knowingly.

“That I am, Doc,” Matt replies. “Had to fight Cruz for the job.” He glances from Will to Sylvie with a smirk. “He’s your ride to the Firehouse the next time you come in, by the way.”

She rolls her eyes with fond annoyance. “It’s so nice to be told things instead of asked.”

“Then I guess I shouldn’t _tell_ you about the light duty arrangement Chief worked out for you,” Matt quips with a smirk.

“I’m sorry, what?” She asks in delighted surprise.

“I mean I hate to tell you something without asking first—“

“Matt Casey!”

He bites back a laugh and focuses a mirthful stare on her. “Yes?”

“Stop playing games and tell me!”

“But I thought you didn’t want to be _told_ things—“

“I will throw my pillow at you.”

Will laughs at them and then points to the door. “I think that’s my cue. I don’t want to witness anything that would force me to call Security. See you guys around, but hopefully _outside_ the hospital next time.”

“Bye, Will,” Sylvie says with a friendly smile. “Thanks again.” Once he’s out the door, she turns a soft curious smile on Matt. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I’m seeing you,” he explains, as if it’s obvious. “Why wouldn’t I be in a good mood?”

She blushes and dips her head bashfully before finding his eyes again. “So, I guess it seems like I _did_ _not_ imagine last night. I thought maybe the painkillers—“

“No, it wasn’t the painkillers. You were queasy and cold. Not delusional,” Matt assures her with a playful smirk. His gaze observes her bed, noting the three layers of blankets. “Maggie came through on the additional blankets, I see.”

“She did, not that it helped me sleep,” she replies with an irritated huff. “I hate hospitals. Nurses coming in all night long, the antiseptic smell—the memories.”

 _Otis_. _Jimmy. Stella._ Any number or bad calls. For him, there’s _Hallie_ and Gabby’s miscarriage — yeah, he can’t blame her for hating hospitals. He hates them too.

“We’ll have you home soon enough,” he promises, moving over to the chair beside her bed. He takes in the dark exhausted lines under eyes and resists the urge to swipe a tender touch across them. This is a new day, with new rules on contact.

She’s not overly emotional right now. He doesn’t know how receptive she’ll still be now that she doesn’t need as much comfort.

“And as soon as we do, you’re going to bed,” Matt insists. “Where no nurse will interrupt you and all the smells will be familiar.”

“Oh, that sounds like _heaven_ ,” she says, inhaling and exhaling slowly. 

He finally remembers the duffle strap across his chest and places the bag on the foot of her bed. “Went by Herrmann’s, Cindy packed a change of clothes for you. She was baking up a storm, too. I think you’re gonna have a studio apartment full of baked goods.”

She chuckles, reaching for the bag. She winces as the motion stretches her wounded side.

“Sylvie, let me—“

“Nope,” she says, voice straining while her fingers finally grasp a handle on the top of the bag. “I got it.”

He sighs through his frustration, feeling both bemused and irritated, and watches her unzip the bag to rummage through it.

“God bless Cindy Herrmann,” Sylvie mutters as she pulls a fuzzy pink hooded sweater from the bag. She hugs it to her chest and then freezes when she feels his amused stare on her. “It’s cashmere,” she explains with an embarrassed flush. “She knew I’d need the little bit of real luxury I own today.”

Maggie walks in with Sylvie’s paperwork, including the time for her post op follow up with Dr. Marcel, and spots the sweater in her lap. 

“Lady, is that cashmere?” Maggie asks, looking envious.

“Yes,” Sylvie answers with a nod.

“Then why in the world are you still in that hospital gown? Come on, I’ll help you get changed,” Maggie says as she grabs Sylvie’s bag off the bed and winks at Matt.

Matt knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s swindling Brett into accepting help. He imagines she did that all night long after he left.

Sylvie tries to pull herself out of bed and winces again. Matt opens his mouth to tell her to wait but Maggie discreetly holds up a hand to stop him.

“Why don’t we let the strapping Captain Casey give us a hand, huh?” Maggie asks as she takes the sweater from Sylvie’s lap and waves him over. “I’ll have your stuff waiting for you in the bathroom.”

Casey rounds the bed, places one hand on her back and then grips one of her hands with his free one. He ignores the gap in the back of the gown that leaves his hand touching bare skin for the time being. He carefully pulls her to her feet, getting an up close reminder of the scrapes and lacerations on her face. Once her feet hit the floor, he brings his palm to her cheek — unable to keep from touching her any longer.

His thumb traces under the burn on her cheek from the airbag. It’s been bandaged and he knows there’s some sort of salve on top of it too, but it has to sting.

She relaxes against his touch and then allows her whole body to lean into his.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t made it out of that alive, Sylvie,” he confesses, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Sylvie inhales sharply at his words, looking sweetly bewildered, but doesn’t reply. She does, however, let him walk her to the bathroom without a single complaint. 

Maggie’s waiting to take her from him and then closes the door. Matt grabs Sylvie’s paperwork so they don’t forget it and waits impatiently, hands fidgeting at his sides. Finally, Sylvie emerges in her hooded sweater, cropped sweatpants, and sneakers. It’s more casual than he’s ever seen her and he finds that fact completely thrilling. He loves seeing new sides of Sylvie Brett.

“You two wait here,” Maggie tells them. “I’ll be back with a wheelchair for our esteemed PIC.”

“A wheelchair?” Sylvie asks, appalled. “No, Maggie, I can walk--”

“Sylvie, you could barely walk from the bed to the bathroom,” Matt tells her with fond frustration. “You’re sore all over and you have a stitched up hole in your abdomen.”

“I’m not helpless bunny, Matt--”

“Of course not,” he says, resting a comforting hand on her back. “You’re cute, sure, but tough as hell. We all know that. No one’s going to think less of you if we wheel you out of here. Not anyone who matters anyway.”

Her cheeks redden and she nods, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Maggie to see. Maggie shoots Matt a secretive smile before tenderly squeezing Sylvie’s shoulder and walking off to find them an available chair.

She grimaces and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Matt chuckles wryly and slips an arm around her waist. He understands why she wants to stand on her own two feet but she doesn’t _always_ have to do that. He’s more than willing to help her.

“Lean on me if you need to, Sylvie,” he tells her. “That’s why I’m here.”

She sighs and it sounds wistful, as if she wants to believe him but can’t. “Sometimes, you seem too good to be true, Matt Casey.” 

He’s not sure how to reply to that. The notion that she can’t bring herself to believe that he’s there -- _he’s real_ \-- terrifies him. What does that mean for them moving forward? Is that good or is that bad? Can he persuade her that what he feels for her isn’t some sort of illusion?

He’s close to getting lost in his fear when it happens. 

She presses her weight into his, wraps an arm around his back, and leans her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmurs with a thick swallow. “You being here today means everything to me.”

The tension that had been building in his gut eases off. He kisses the top of her head and then rests his cheek against her hair. “You don’t have to thank me. Anytime, day or night, whenever you need someone I’ll come running. That’s a promise.”

“Your chariot awaits,” Maggie announces. She nods toward the male nurse walking next to her. “This is Hank, he’s going to walk you both downstairs and out of the building. I’ve gotta get back to my desk. Next time I see either of you, it better not be for treatment. You got that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sylvie says with a half smile and a dip of her chin.

“That goes for you too, cowboy,” Maggie says, wagging a scolding finger at Matt.

“Copy that,” Matt agrees as he helps Sylvie into the chair. He slips the strap of Sylvie’s duffle over his shoulder and hands Sylvie her discharge papers. “Thanks for all your help, Maggie,” he says, with a genuinely grateful glance.

She winks and pats his cheek. “Anything for you guys over at 51.”

Maggie waves and then leaves them with Hank, who takes his place behind Sylvie’s chair. They start to wheel away from the room but Sylvie holds out a hand to stop them.

“Wait, my flowers!”

Her hospital room has a few flower arrangements sitting around inside -- various gifts from different people or groups. Scott and Amelia, her parents, The 21st, Foster, even 51 (arranged by Donna on their behalf). He’d already made arrangements with Maggie to have her keep them in the Doctor’s lounge in the ED until Severide and Kidd can swing by to pick them up.

“Got it covered,” Matt assures her. “They’re gonna be brought to your place later today.”

She blinks at him in what he thinks might be amazement. “Well, you thought of everything, didn’t you?”

He shrugs modestly. “I tried.”

Hank waits with Sylvie while Matt pulls his truck up to the front. He very delicately helps her climb into the truck and get settled in the passenger seat. He stores her bag at her feet and walks around to the driver’s side. Once they’re pulling away from the curb he remembers the news he started to tell her when he first arrived.

“So, we never finished talking about your light duty assignment,” Matt says, giving her a sly grin. “Or should I _ask_ if you want it first?”

She laughs and the sound is bright and uninhibited. He memorizes it the way he would a favorite song. He needs to be able play it on a loop in his head anytime he wants. 

“Oh my God, just tell me already.”

“So, he wants you completely off for one full shift — next shift, but after that he says you can come in for 8 hours of our shift to train Violet and keep an eye on her. He knows how important it is that you two bond and he doesn’t want anything getting in the way of that,” Matt explains. “But you _have_ to stay off full duty for as long as your doctor advises. He won’t budge on that particular protocol.”

Her smile is hopeful, even a bit excited, as she replies. “That’s fair! That’s very fair! As long as I can show up and contribute _somehow_ then that’s good enough for me!”

“I thought you might be happy about that,” Matt says with a proud smile. He’d brokered the deal with Boden for her, not that he’d ever tell her that, and he’s glad his instincts were right. “Joe is going to give you a ride shift after next and then whenever you’re ready to go Chief will give you a ride home.”

“Getting shot didn’t make me forget how to drive, you know,” she grumbles.

He smirks and stifles a chuckle. “Just humor us, okay? You work with a bunch or protective people who all care about you. We’re bound to go overboard a little.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she nods. “Fine. At least I save on gas money.”

“There you go. Silver lining.”

When they reach Herrmann’s, Casey pulls in next to Sylvie’s car. Herrmann and Lee Henry went by the station and picked it up for her last night. Casey finds himself immensely grateful that Sylvie moved into Herrmann’s studio — especially now. She always has someone on standby ready to look out for her (if for some reason he can’t manage that himself).

As soon as he puts the truck in park, she reaches for the door handle but Casey fixes her with a flat stare and one quirked brow. It’s the same look he gives his Truck guys when they start to step out of line. Brett’s eyes narrow on his for a brief moment, he can see she’s debating ignoring him, but she sighs through a snicker and shakes her head. Her back sags into the passenger seat and she releases the latch, wordlessly agreeing to wait.

With that settled, Matt walks around the truck to shoulder her bag and help her out of the vehicle. She moves easier with every step which he finds extremely reassuring. He knows she has to be in pain. She got thrown around in a moving vehicle twice and _then_ had her side opened up to remove a bullet. Even if she was spared long term damage, it’ll still take time to recover.

They get her door open and the sight that greets them has Sylvie taking deep breaths to fight off tears.

Cindy’s baked goods sit on nearly every available surface of her small kitchen, balloons are weighted down in the middle of her tiny kitchen table, and there are even _more_ flowers. Purple hydrangeas and gerbera daisies, to be exact, and one arrangement he doesn’t recognize. _Sunflowers, orange roses, and some tiny purple flowers._ He knew who sent the first two, the third arrangement was completely foreign to him. 

“This is beautiful,” Sylvie whispers with a soft sniffle. “But really not necessary.”

“Come on,” Matt says as he stands behind her in the doorway. “People love you. Let them show it.” He reaches around her and points to each item one by one. “The baked treats are from Cindy, obviously. The balloons are from the Herrmann kids. Annabelle wanted you to know _she_ picked out the pink one with the unicorn on it, by the way.” He pauses when Sylvie chuckles warmly and settles a hand on her waist. She leans into him, resting her back to his front. “The daisies and hydrangeas...are from _me_. And I have no idea who sent you the sunflowers. This is the first time I’m seeing those.”

She turns to face him, maintaining their close proximity, and her misty gaze finds his. “You bought me flowers?”

“Well, I—“ Why is he nervous _now_? He’s been fine all morning but now that they’re standing so incredibly close his pulse is doing double time. “I know you like them and you’re gonna be stuck inside more than usual so I thought they might, I don’t know, make you happy.”

“You thought right,” she admits as her eyes roam his face. She takes his hand and pulls him inside the apartment. She nods between the bag he holds and her bed. “You can put that on the bed. I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I’m starving.”

“Cindy has a solution for that,” Matt says, grinning before walking from her bed to the fridge. He opens it and pulls out a glass baking dish with a sticky note and cellophane on top. He holds it up for her to see and then sets it down on the stove. “Breakfast casserole.”

“Why am I not surprised? Cindy never misses a beat.” She asks as she wanders over to the sunflowers. She plucks the card from the arrangement and a bittersweet grin forms on her face. She looks up, meeting his concerned and expectant gaze. “Kyle. His ‘thoughts and prayers’ are with me, apparently.” She shakes her head and then rubs a hand across her forehead. “He’s much too nice to me, all things considered.”

Kyle? What the hell is _the Chaplain_ doing sending Sylvie flowers?

“What were you supposed to do?” Matt asks her, willing himself not to glare at the flowers. “Stay and make yourself miserable?”

“No,” she replies, looking down at the floor while running a hand through her hair. “I just...never should have gone in the first place. I mean, Chicago is my home now. Has been for years. I should have known better.”

“Yeah, well, that was a weird time for everyone,” Matt tells her. “A lot happened at once and after Arnow things were upside down for a long time. For all of us.” He takes a moment to hold her gaze, trying to let her know he understands and it’s behind them. After that moment passes he looks down at the sunflowers with a scowl. He busies himself with preheating her oven and removing the plastic wrap from the baking dish. “What’s that guy thinking sending you flowers anyway? A card wouldn’t have sufficed?”

There’s a beat of silence. it crackles with tension and he’s not sure why. He looks up to find Sylvie observing him with an assessing stare and a tiny amused smirk.

“Are you... _jealous_?” She asks.

Yes. Of _fucking_ course he is.

“No.”

Christ, he’s a piss poor liar.

“You are!” Sylvie exclaims, delight spreading across her face. “Why? You don’t need to be. He sent me _one_ arrangement of flowers and they’re not even my favorite.”

“I know. You like gerbera daisies. I pay attention,” he mumbles.

“You also got me purple hydrangeas,” Sylvie says pointing to the other vase. “You think I didn’t notice that? Or remember _why_?”

His stare collides with hers and stays there. They grin at each other, memories and meanings passing between them.

“Kyle’s sunflowers don’t hold a candle to that. Trust me,” she assures him.

“It’s just...you were _engaged_ to him. There’s a history there that we don’t have,” he confesses.

She winces and hesitance suddenly appears in her crystal blue eyes. “Do you really want to talk about _history_?”

She swallows thickly, doubt shrouding her expression, before ducking her head and intently studying her nails. He can feel her locking up and retreating inward. He’s not going to let that happen.

“You know what? Yeah. I _do_ ,” he states. “Let’s talk about it.”

Her head whips up, eyes wide and startled. “Seriously?”

He nods and then decides to simply _go for it_. Put it all on the line. Sylvie’s worth the risk.

“First,” he says, taking a deep breath and holding up one finger. “ _Gabby_ doesn’t factor into my decisions anymore. That’s over. _For good_. Has been since October.” He ticks off the second reason with an additional finger, but then worries this speech is coming off like he’s explaining drills to a candidate. So, he drops the fingers. “Second, I don’t care that you were her best friend or that you and me might look messy to everyone else. I care about _you_. That’s what matters. And finally, I’m tired of everyone assuming I’m sitting around waiting for Gabby to come back. I’m _not_. Never have been. I loved Gabby, but that’s over. I want to move on. I _want_ to find a partner. A _real_ partner. Does that all make sense?”

A wide toothy smile breaks over Sylvie’s face and she nods, stepping around the counter to reach him. She reaches up and scrubs her fingers across his slightly stubbled cheek. He forgoed shaving that morning in favor of seeing her sooner. 

“It makes perfect sense,” she replies as she pushes her hand back into his hair and brushes it off his forehead.

He thinks this is his moment to lean in for an actual kiss but just as he starts to lean in her oven beeps. 

Sylvie giggles quietly at his frustrated expression. “Put that in the oven and then come sit with me. My side’s starting to hurt, I should probably get off my feet.”

Shit, how could he forget?

“Right! Yeah, you go sit. I got this,” he assures her. 

He places the casserole in the oven and sets the timer, joining her on the small loveseat in a matter of minutes. When he joins her, she pulls a blanket off the back and spreads it over both of them. 

“In the interest of addressing history,” Sylvie says, angling herself toward him so that her thighs and knees overlap his. “You truly have nothing to worry about in terms of my exes. Kyle’s a nice guy but if I’m honest with myself, the passion was never there. And Harrison isn’t even worth mentioning at this point. He was a mistake I made for far too many years.”

He hates to ask about this next person, but he not only witnessed them but heard all the details from Gabby. He knows more about how Sylvie felt about Antonio than he probably should. “And Antonio?”

She snorts, the sound is indelicate and a tad bitter. He hates it. “I’m happy that he’s finally happy, but that situation was never fair to me. I see that now. Nobody's ever really been the right fit, Matt. There’s always one part of me that they wish they could change — even Joe, as much as I adore him now, wanted me to be more of a house cat than I typically am.” She shrugs and relaxes into his side. “So, there’s really no competition there or anywhere else.”

His brow furrows and he lets his arm drift from the back of the loveseat to her shoulders. “What did Kyle want to change?”

She glances at Matt out of the corner of her eye. “He meant well and it was more a _suggestion_ than a request.”

Matt’s eyes narrow on her as he thinks back to what he knows of the Chaplain and puts it together with the reluctance in her gaze. Suddenly, it clicks.

“He wanted you to quit your job, didn’t he?”

“He thought I might enjoy helping him take care of people in other ways,” Sylvie says diplomatically.

Matt scoffs and tucks Sylvie closer to him, happier than ever that she came back to Chicago when she did. “Yeah, by foregoing what _you_ want to be Chaplain’s Wife full time. Real convenient suggestion _for him_. He’d never have another firefighter kick him out of their apartment because he was dating a paramedic. It would have solved all of his conflict of interest concerns, wouldn’t it?”

“Matt, come on, it wasn’t like that. Kyle’s very conservatively traditional but he’s not _that guy_ ,” she defends, giving him an amused grin. “He just didn’t really understand me, that’s all.”

“Even at my most terrified yesterday, I _never_ would have suggested you quit your job,” he supplies. “You’re doing what you were meant to do, Sylvie. To take you away from that would be criminal. Defend him all you want, but that was a jerk move. You’re the best paramedic in Chicago and anyone who doesn’t know that is an idiot. Chaplain or not.”

He feels her eyes on him before he turns his head to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes have darkened. Her stare flits to his lips and then back up to meet his. Her tongue peeks out and then her teeth snag her bottom lip, drawing his attention.

She pulls him in like gravity, compelling him into her orbit. His nose bumps hers, nuzzling until his lips hover at just the right angle. He feels Sylvie’s hand slip into the hair at the nape of his neck, urging him closer. He moans pathetically at the feeling of her fingers in his hair and closes the miniscule amount of distance between them, letting his lips finally capture hers.

He keeps the kiss gentle and soft, but not shallow. He runs his tongue along her bottom lip, asking for entrance. Her lips part and release a whimper into his mouth. He keeps one steadying gentle hand on her injured side, aware that he shouldn’t jostle her, and brings his other hand up to cup her jaw.

It’s a perfect first kiss that leads to the perfect second and third kisses. They’re taking slow small sips instead of long burning gulps and Sylvie’s pouring everything she has into him. He can _feel it_. Her affection, her gratefulness, the heat that’s been simmering between them — Her overall _need_ for him. He hasn’t truly been needed by one dedicated person in a long time. He forgot how _good_ it feels to know someone wants you around just as much as you _want_ to be around. Sylvie reminds him of that with her lips and tongue, and he has the sudden intuition that he’ll never forget again.

They pull apart and rest their foreheads together while they catch their breath.

“I honestly don’t think anyone aside from my family has ever been so vocal about their belief in me,” Sylvie confesses. “You’re so sincere about it that it knocks the wind right out of me. I swear.”

He aims a lopsided smirk at her. “I guess you’d better get used to being breathless then. Because that’s not stopping anytime soon. I plan to be around and complimenting you for a long time to come.”

“You do?” Sylvie asks with bright watery eyes.

He nods. “I do. I told you. I want a partner. So, if you’re up to it...then I’m in this. As far and as long as we can take it.”

“Good,” Sylvie says, blowing out a relieved breath. “I am too. I want all the same things, Matt. I truly do.”


End file.
